


What Once Was Lost

by cassie_black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Ron Weasley, Christmas Fluff, Community: slythindor100, Draco Malfoy & Ron Weasley Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Meddling Hermione Granger, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 16,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_black/pseuds/cassie_black
Summary: Harry and Draco find their way back to each other.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm a little late cross-posting this fic, which was written way back in 2010 for 25 Days of Harry & Draco over at Slythindor100. I rolled all the prompts together into one longish fic, which I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  **Prompt:** #1 – Snowy London

"You're still coming on Friday night, aren't you?"

Harry looked up from the till to where Ron was lounging over the counter. "I don't know," he said reluctantly. "You know me and crowds."

"It's hardly _crowds_. Just a few friends and family."

"Ron, just your family alone qualifies as a crowd."

Ron frowned and rubbed at his face. "You have to come," he replied. "Hermione's got her heart set on everything being perfect. First Christmas in the new home and all that crap." He shrugged. "It won't be the same without you there."

"Who else is going?" Harry asked, playing for time.

Ron paused for a moment. "Just the family, some friends from work—"

"Will Malfoy be there?" Harry interrupted, watching Ron suspiciously.

Ron shifted awkwardly. "Well, yes. We work together – I could hardly not invite him."

"I didn't realise you two were so close." For the life of him Harry couldn't keep the bitter edge out of his voice.

Ron sighed. "He's an all right bloke now, Harry. You'd know that if you ever gave him a chance."

"I've got all the friends I need, thanks." Harry folded his arms, stubborn expression on his face.

"Just think about it, yeah?" Ron said, pushing away from the counter. "It'd make Hermione happy to have you there."

Harry shut the till with a loud bang. "Okay."

Ron gave a boyish grin and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Good lad. You know it makes sense. Now then, on the subject of keeping Hermione happy, I need your help choosing her Christmas present."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "I'm working."

"That's okay." Ron gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "George said he didn't mind if I borrowed you for a bit."

Harry glanced in the direction of the shop's window and watched the dizzying white flakes swirl wildly past. "It's chucking it down with snow out there."

"Nothing a little Drying Charm won't sort out. C'mon Harry," Ron wheedled. "You know I'm useless at this sort of thing. Plus, I'll only get lost on my own."

*

Half an hour later, Harry found himself battling both the elements and the hordes of tourists on Oxford Street, and decided that maybe he should look into getting some new friends after all.

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #2 Red Candles

The bubbles reached right to the brim of the bath, sparkling gaily in the flickering candlelight. A large glass of wine was perched on a convenient ledge, and the air was scented with delicate hints of lavender.

Draco sighed happily and eased his tired body into the velvety-soft water. When finally all but his head and shoulders were submerged, he reached out for the glass with one soapy arm. _This was just what he needed after the day he'd had._

The fates were not on his side it seemed.

Bright lights flared to life, rendering the candles and their gentle flames somewhat redundant.

Draco spluttered into his drink.

"Having fun, darling?" Pansy strolled into the room as if nothing were amiss, and perched on the edge of the bath.

"Pansy, what the fuck?" Draco checked hurriedly that the bubbles provided _adequate_ coverage.

"Your mother sent me up," Pansy continued. Then she smirked. "Don't be such a prude – it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Fuck off." Draco gritted his teeth and mourned the absence of his wand. He could _Accio_ it from the bedroom, but his mother was unlikely to be impressed with the ensuing hole in the door.

Pansy gazed absently at her nails. "Astoria was right. You really are in a bad mood."

"Pansy."

"Oh fine." With a swish of her wand the room was, once again, reduced to candlelight. "Better?"

"If you're leaving," Draco replied caustically, and then took a deep drink from his glass.

Pansy ignored him – her gaze now fixed on the candles. "Gryffindor red," she mused, her tone laced with unspoken meanings.

"What do you want, Pansy?" Draco realised there would be no peace until he heard her out.

"I spoke to Astoria earlier. She was rather upset."

"And?"

Pansy arched one perfect brow. "She thinks you're on the verge of splitting up."

Draco shrugged. "I always said she was a clever girl."

"You really don't care?" Pansy asked curiously, as she trailed one hand through the bubbles.

"She wants to get married."

"But I thought that was the general idea? Get yourself a proper, pureblood wife, have a couple of proper, pureblood heirs, and then live...well, ever after."

Draco shuddered. "It's too soon."

"Draco, you've been going out with her for two years. You can't blame the girl for getting impatient."

"Whose side are you on?" Draco reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist.

"Yours of course." Pansy stared pointedly at her arm and Draco released it instantly.

"You _know_ how I feel," he said softly.

"I also know what you said; what's changed?"

"Nothing," Draco replied sadly. "That's the problem."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #3 Snowman

Ron and Hermione's new home was a quintessentially English cottage tucked away in a quiet corner of an even quieter Wiltshire village. And Harry loved it. Grimmauld Place was no longer as dank and oppressive as it had been in the days of the Order, but Harry still preferred to spend as little time there as possible.

He juggled his unwieldy burden into one hand and, with the other, rapped smartly on the door. The snow was starting to fall heavily now, and he silently willed Hermione to answer sharpish.

When no answer was forthcoming, Harry began to wish he'd Floo'd in. Yes, he'd sworn never to do that again, unannounced, after the time he caught Hermione in her underwear – but really, what were the chances of that happening twice? Harry shook his head. No, he decided, it just wasn't worth the risk of trauma – on both their parts. Although he suspected he'd been by far the more embarrassed.

Instead, he shifted the box securely into both hands and negotiated the snowy path around the side of the house.

The garden was covered by a thick blanket of snow, and in pride of place, in what once was the lawn, was a fat, jolly-looking snowman. And Harry arrived just in time to see Hermione push a large carrot into place for a nose, while little Rose Weasley clapped excitedly by her mother's feet.

"Uncle 'Arry." Rose spotted him first and trotted over as quickly as wellington boots and deep snow would allow.

"Hello, Rosie." Unable to swing her into his arms as usual, Harry had to content himself with patting her head instead.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione was flushed and breathless. "Sorry, I didn't hear you."

"'S okay. You had more important things to do." Harry nodded at the snowman. "Impressive."

Hermione surveyed her work, not without pride. "Not bad, is he? Rose has been dying to make one ever since the snow started. Ron wanted to do it, but he's so busy at work lately."

"Big case?" Harry asked. 

"I think so." Hermione shrugged. "You know how he loves to be mysterious about _Auror business._ "

Harry laughed. "He'll break and tell you soon. Ron never could keep a secret for very long."

"Not like us," Hermione said, so softly that Harry wasn't sure he didn't imagine it.

Before he could reply there was an insistent tugging on Harry's sleeve. 

"Presents?"

Harry looked down to find Rose gazing hopefully at the box. "I'm afraid not, Rosie. Not this time. This is for Mummy."

Hermione looked startled.

"Don't get excited, it's just glasses and stuff for the party." Then, seeing her puzzled expression, he explained, "I stopped by the Leaky earlier. Hannah asked me to drop them off."

Hermione's frown cleared. "Oh thank goodness. I was beginning to think we'd have to drink out of bottles. Let's go inside, and you can put those down."

"Thought you'd never ask."

*

With his burden relinquished and his goddaughter put down for a nap, Harry found himself quickly roped in to putting up Christmas decoration.

"Do I have to?" he asked, when Hermione pressed a box of tree ornaments into his hands. "There's a reason I never do this at home."

"I know, Mr Grinch." Hermione gave him a playful nudge. "Come on, I need this done for tomorrow night, and you're not working today.

Harry heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned his attention to the task at hand. "These are lovely," he commented a moment later. "Are they new?"

Hermione turned to examine the delicate, glass ornaments . "Those? They were an early Christmas present from Draco. Traditional Wizarding ornaments, apparently."

Harry ignored the urge to _smash_. However, his feelings were clearly written all over his face.

"Honestly." Hermione put down the fairy lights and just _looked_. "When are you going to let this go?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry replied stubbornly, turning his gaze to the bare tree. "I suppose he's still coming tomorrow?"

"He's Ron's partner, Harry. And he's _my_ friend. If you gave him a chance, maybe he could be yours too."

Harry snorted. "I think we both know _that's_ not going to happen." He picked up one of the ornaments and dangled it off his finger. 

Hermione reached out and placed her hand on top of his. "Promise me you'll be civil. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable."

Harry stared at his friend, eyes wide, and stung by this remark. "And what about me? What about how I feel?"

Hermione squeezed his hand gently. "You have to let this go, Harry. It's been over two years."

"It's not that easy," Harry answered, pulling his hand away slowly. 

"Nothing ever is." Hermione smiled sadly. "But you have to at least try."

*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #4 Latte

"You're late back." Draco didn't look up from his work, but Ron could feel the accusing glare nonetheless.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I had a few errands to run."

Draco sighed and pushed his paperwork to one side. "Weasley, we don't have time for you—"

"I got coffee." Ron gave his most winning smile and held out a steaming cup.

"Is that...?"

"Cinnamon latte," Ron confirmed smugly. "Your favourite."

Draco peeled off the plastic lid and inhaled deeply. "You went into Muggle London?"

Ron nodded. "I know there's a Starbucks on most streets in London, but not even they've managed to break Diagon Alley, just yet."

"It's an idea though." Draco pressed the lid back in place and took a sip. He sighed in satisfaction.

Ron rolled his eyes and sat at his desk – a plain cup of tea clutched in his hand. "I had to pick some things up for the party tonight," he explained. "Hermione's orders."

"She's got you well trained. Remind me to ask her for some tips."

"Get stuffed." Ron paused for a sip of his drink. "You're still coming tonight, right?"

"Yes, Weasley, my answer is the same as it was the ten other times you asked me this morning."

Ron smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just that Hermione's stressing out that no one will turn up. I've told her she's being silly, but..." He shrugged. "You know women."

"Indeed." Draco turned his attention back to his earlier report.

"And you're still bringing whatshername?"

Draco arched one brow at Ron, who flushed slightly. "No, _Astoria_ will be otherwise engaged this evening. I thought I'd bring Pansy along, if that's not a problem."

"The more the merrier." Ro paused and eyed his partner speculatively. "Everything okay?"

"Sorry?" Draco had heard full well what Ron said, but he hoped that the ice in his tone and expression would prevent its repetition. He'd reckoned without Weasley obliviousness.

"Is everything okay?" Ron repeated. "Between you and...Astoria. Only you hardly ever mention her anymore."

"Unlike some people, I have more sense than to bore my work colleagues with the minutiae of my life. It's a policy you'd do well to adopt."

"Yeah, yeah." Ron gave a dismissive wave of his hand. It seemed that after a year of working as partners, he had become immune to the Malfoy trademark glare.

"Can we get on?" Draco pushed a folder across the desk. "This report won't write itself, and I can't make head nor tail of your abysmal handwriting."

"I thought we were meant to be interviewing Petrovic this afternoon?"

Draco shook his head. "Robards dropped by while you were _running errands_. He confessed."

"Bugger." Ron sank back in his chair despondently. 

"Not quite the word i would have chosen," Draco replied. "But the sentiment is the same."

"Bit of an anti-climax, really," Ron mused. "All those months of surveillance, all that hard work, and he just rolls over without so much as a whimper."

"Looking forward to playing bad cop this time, were you?" 

Ron grinned. "Oh well," he said finally, "at least it means I can get home on time tonight. I'd never have heard the end of it if I arrived after the guests."

"What time are you starting?" Draco toyed absently with his coffee cup.

"Around seven," Ron replied. "But come over whenever you're ready. Rosie's always asking when Uncle Drake's coming over."

"Drake?" Draco fairly spat the word.

Ron grinned."I know, right? But what can you do?"

"You taught her that on purpose, you bastard."

Ron laughed outright this time. "Just be grateful she can't manage ferret, yet."

♥


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #5 Snowy London Streets

Harry chose to walk home from work that night. Normally he'd Floo straight from the shop into his living room, but tonight he was hoping that the biting winter air would wake him up, invigorate him for the evening to follow.

Harry was knackered. He hadn't been sleeping well these last few nights. Memories and demons that he'd thought long since buried had resurfaced to plague his rest. Plus, a day spent tending a shop filled with excited children, all exclaiming loudly over the latest WWW invention, hadn't helped. There'd been an unfortunate incident involving Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, a new shipment of Pygmy Puffs, and a wilful four year old by the name of Rex.

Tiny puffs of what looked like soot still coughed their way out of Harry's lungs on occasion – another reason for his brisk walk home in the fresh air.

For all that he coveted quiet, country living, Harry couldn't deny that the city held a certain charm at this time of year. The crunch of thick snow underfoot, the bustle of excited shoppers, the lights of busy taxis as they hurried past – but Harry's favourite part was the small glimpses of Christmas he got through every passing window.

With each step, Harry's feet felt heavier. He spotted a familiar red phone box looming in the distance, and just for a moment was tempted to slip inside and _do a Superman_. Not that he was planning to change into tights and pull his pants on over the top – Harry didn't think he was quite built for the Lycra look anymore – rather he was tempted to use the cover to Apparate the remaining distance home.

He didn't, though. Instead, he trudged onwards, cursing the Ministry and their bloody stupid statutes.

*

Grimmauld Place was in darkness when he arrived – just the faint glow of light escaped under the crack of the imposing front door. Harry pushed it open to find Kreacher waiting inside – a disapproving look on his face.

"Master Harry is late." The accompanying glare was baleful. "He will have to hurry if he is to keep to his schedule."

"Schedule?" Harry repeated, his brow creased in confusion as he hung up his coat. "What schedule?"

With a flourish, Kreacher shook out a scroll of parchment. "Mrs Wheezy was dropping it off earlier. And was giving Kreacher very strict instructions that you is not to stay in tonight."

Harry bristled slightly at this. How dare Hermione presume? He'd said he was going, hadn't he? It wasn't like he made a habit of going back on his word – or not very often, anyway. "I'm surprised she didn't stick around to dress me," he muttered sulkily.

"I believe Master Harry will find his clothes already laid out. And your bath is waiting." Kreacher bowed his head after this, but not before Harry was convinced he saw the elf smirk – ever so slightly.

*

Harry couldn't resist checking his reflection in the hallway mirror before he left. The dark, inky denim of his jeans clung to his thighs, emphasising their lean musculature, while a semi-fitted black shirt did much the same for his torso.

Really, Harry wanted nothing more than to go back upstairs and bury himself under the duvet and hide out until this evening was over. He knew that wasn't an option though. Hermione would never forgive him. 

And he had a sneaking suspicion he'd never forgive himself either. It had been long enough. It was time to face up to the past. And dressed like this, Harry felt more than ready to do it.

*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #6 Gay Apparel!

"This was a bad idea," Draco muttered to himself, reaching for his fourth consecutive glass of punch.

Obviously he hadn't said it as quietly as he thought, because Pansy grinned back at him. "Oh, I don't know," she said lightly. "It's better than I expected."

Draco arched on brow in surprise – Pansy had been more than vocal in her objections to coming.

"A girl can change her mind," she said, and sipped delicately at her drink. "It was worth it for a look at Potter in those jeans if nothing else."

Draco couldn't help it, his eyes automatically drifted to the subject of their conversation. "I hadn't noticed," he said distractedly.

"Of course you hadn't, darling." Pansy grabbed a serviette off the buffet table and held it out. "You might need this for the drool."

Draco batted Pansy's hand away and fixed her with an icy glare.

"I'm only teasing," she replied, and gave her best pout.

"Well, don't," Draco snapped. "What if someone heard you?"

The amusement faded from Pansy's eyes. "Fine," she said. "I'll play along. It's not like I haven't had years of practice."

"Pansy, please. This is neither the time nor the place." Draco cast a quick, hunted look around the room.

"It never is," she replied shortly. 

There was something resembling pity in her gaze that Draco was fairly sure he should be annoyed by. And he would be, just as soon as he stopped feeling nauseous.

*

"Malfoy!"

Ron slung an arm heavily around Draco's shoulders. His cheeks were flushed and his breath reeked of alcohol. "You came."

"I said I would, didn't I?" Draco replied, mildly amused by his partner's condition.

"Thought you'd change your mind at the last minute," Ron confessed. "It's not really your scene, is it?"

Draco ran his eye around the cosy room, filled to the brim with family, friends, and gaudy Christmas decoration. Ron was right, it really wasn't his scene. But for the first time, Draco found himself wishing that it was.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world." Draco bumped his shoulder against Ron, who swayed worryingly. "It's not often you get to see a jumper like that."

"Where?" Ron frowned and looked around the room. "Percy, you mean?"

Draco followed Ron's gaze to where Percy Weasley was standing, deep in conversation with Padma Patil – he was sporting a red and green Pringle sweater. 

"As fetching a number as that is, I actually meant him." Draco threw good manners to the wind and physically turned Ron's head until he was staring in the right direction.

George Weasley stood next to the fireplace -- chatting to the Minister of all people -- whilst wearing a drab-looking grey sweatshirt. It looked innocuous enough from the back, but Draco had been privileged enough to see the front in all its glory.

Ron barked out a sudden laugh. "Hermione nearly had a fit when she saw that. Wouldn't let me wear mine."

Draco frowned slightly. "You have one, too?"

"Yup." Ron nodded. " It was George's idea of showing Charlie our support."

Draco's frown deepened further. "I don't get it," he admitted reluctantly.

Ron reached up and ruffled Draco's hair. "Not like you to be slow on the uptake, Malfoy." Draco gave his best glare, but Ron continued on blithely unaware. "You've seen what it says on the front?"

Draco nodded.

_"Now don we our gay apparel,"_ Ron read aloud, clearly expecting this to explain everything.

It didn't.

"And?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Charlie finally came out to Mum and Dad. Brought a boyfriend home for the Christmas holidays."

Draco looked over to where Charlie Weasley – a fine figure of a man, even Draco was forced to admit – was sitting really rather closely to a dark-haired man with vivid blue eyes. He swallowed hard. "Your parents don't mind?"

Ron opened his mouth, but someone else beat him to the reply.

"Why would they?" Draco's heart sank as he recognised the cold voice. "Not everyone is ashamed of who they are, Malfoy."

Draco turned round quickly enough to catch the flash of anger in Harry Potter's eyes, but before he had chance to even think, Harry was gone. Only the echoing slam of the door remained.

*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #7 Fairy Lights

Harry leant against the wall of his friends' house and watched as his breath emerged in cloud-like puffs. It was dark outside – only the muted glow from the kitchen window and the lone string of fairy lights around the door illuminated the gloomy garden.

Harry looked up. The moon and stars were hidden behind a dense layer of cloud. More snow, he thought ruefully, and then glanced at the grinning snowman still gracing the lawn – now adorned with a thick Gryffindor scarf.

The click of the back door heralded company. Harry closed his eyes and waited for the tongue lashing that was sure to come once Hermione found him.

"Was that absolutely necessary?"

Not Hermione then, Harry thought. He remained still and fought to control his renewed anger. He couldn't do this, not here, not now.

"Go away, Malfoy." The words were Harry's only acknowledgement of his company. His eyes remained closed, his body still.

"Potter." There followed the crunching sound of approaching footsteps in the snow.

Just go back inside." Harry's voice was as tense as his body. "I'm sure your girlfriend's wondering where you are."

"I'm not...she's...Astoria isn't here," Draco admitted finally, and Harry felt a twinge of satisfaction at hearing him struggle.

Harry tilted his head to one side and opened his eyes. The bright colours of the twinkling lights reflected off Draco's face, giving him an almost otherworldly glow. "What do you want?" Harry felt suddenly tired, the fight drained from him.

"What I always wanted." Draco stepped closer still. "For us to be friends."

Harry stood up straight at this and pushed away from the wall. "Funny," he said, and gave a bitter laugh. "Because I seem to remember when you wanted a lot more than that. Begged for it, in fact."

"Harry, don't."

"No," Harry snapped, his irritation flooding back in. "You don't get to call me that. Not anymore."

"But I—"

"I'm sick and tired of everyone telling me I should give you a chance, that the war's over and you've changed, making me out to be the bad one."

"I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Maybe I should just tell them the truth," Harry continued, as if Draco hadn't spoken. "Tell them about the ten months' worth of chances I gave you, before you left me to go and have pureblood children with a woman you don't even love."

"You promised." Draco's voice was quiet, but the fear in it was palpable. "You gave me your word."

"Things change." Harry raked one hand through his hair in agitation. "Your sexuality, for starters."

Draco reached out as if to touch Harry, but his hand fell back to his side before he made contact. "It was never my intention to hurt you."

"What did you expect?" Harry demanded. "That I'd wish you both well? Be Best Man at your wedding? For fuck's sake, Draco." Harry hit the wall in frustration. "I was in love with you."

Draco stood motionless, eyes wide in shock. "I...I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have come here tonight." Then, in one swift motion, he raised his wand and began to turn. Before Harry could process what was happening, the crack of Apparition echoed in the still night air.

Harry slumped, once again, against the rough, stone wall of the house, and banged his head against it slowly. "I still do," he said softly, before swallowing hard.

"Hang in there, Potter."

Harry's head snapped forward in alarm, wand already in his hand.

Pansy Parkinson emerged from the shadows around the house, her face lit by the glow from her cigarette. "Don't look so worried," she said calmly. "It's nothing I didn't already know. Draco couldn't keep a secret to save his life."

"He told you?" Harry felt a tiny flicker of something like hope kindle in his chest – maybe Draco hadn't been entirely ashamed of their relationship.

"He did," Pansy confirmed. She paused and stubbed her cigarette out on the floor and offered him her arm. "Now stop brooding and escort a lady back inside. I'm dying of thirst, and there's a redhead in there I've got my eye on."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #8 Nutcracker

"Darling, you look simply dreadful."

Draco looked at his mother through bleary eyes. "Good morning to you, too," he grumbled.

"Are you ill?" Narcissa crossed the dining room quickly and pressed her hand to Draco's forehead. "You do feel rather clammy," she said, ignoring her son's efforts to pull away. "Maybe I should ask—"

"I'm fine," Draco replied shortly. Then, seeing his mother's expression, he added, "Honestly. I just didn't sleep much last night."

Narcissa nodded and removed her hand. Draco knew she was remembering the terrible nightmares he had suffered in the aftermath of the war. "I'll have Tilly prepare you a Sleeping Draught tonight," she said, taking the seat opposite.

Draco sipped his coffee, then simply said, "Thank you." He knew it was pointless to argue with his mother over such matters and he already felt a little guilty for stirring bad memories.

"Are you seeing Astoria today?" Narcissa's tone was deceptively casual, but Draco wasn't fooled.

"I hadn't planned to," he said, heaping a spoon of sugar into his coffee. "I believe she's visiting Daphne and the baby."

"Ah, yes," Narcissa replied. "I ran into her mother in Diagon Alley yesterday. All she could talk about was her _new_ grandchild."

Draco searched his mother's words for some hint of a reproach, a sign that she resented not being the first of her peers to welcome the next generation. But, as always, his mother surprised him.

"Imagine being a grandmother at my age." She let out a tinkling laugh that warmed Draco's heart. "Makes one sound so dreadfully old, don't you think?"

Draco fancied he saw a hint of something in the smile his mother gave him, but it was too fleeting to identify.

Narcissa fell silent then. She reached for a grapefruit and proceeded to consume each sliver with delicate precision.

The knot of worry in Draco's belly loosened slightly, and for the first time since his encounter with Harry the night before, the nausea receded. He reached for a slice of toast and spread it liberally with butter and strawberry jam. He chewed slowly and gazed out of the window towards the snow-covered lawn – the peacocks were nowhere to be seen.

"You're free this evening, then?" Narcissa asked out of the blue.

Draco nodded. "As a bird."

As a satisfied smile crossed his mother's face, Draco found himself reminded of his old Headmaster. Dumbledore often smiled in a similar fashion just after he had manoeuvred events to his own liking.

"Wonderful." Narcissa sipped slowly at her coffee then, clearly delighting in keeping her son in suspense.

"Did you have something in mind?" Draco asked carefully – he was mindful that the last time this had happened, he'd wound up babysitting an excitable Teddy Lupin.

"Your Aunt Andromeda and I had plans to go out. Only, I've received an owl from her this morning to say that young Teddy is poorly."

"Nothing serious, I hope?" Draco enquired, relieved _that_ particular scenario was out of the question.

"Just an upset stomach, I believe." Narcissa placed her cup back in its saucer with a soft _clink_. "Only it does leave me in rather a bind – with box seats at the ballet and no one to accompany me."

"It would be my pleasure, Mother," Draco replied, his pureblood training kicking in. And really, he did have a secret passion for the ballet, one that had absolutely nothing to do with men in tight tights. 

Narcissa gave a quick clap of excitement. "Perfect. We'll stop off for dinner first at that Italian restaurant you love so much."

Draco could taste the Carbonara already. "Which ballet is it?"

In reply, Narcissa produced two tickets and slid them across the table.

Draco reached out and examined them. "The Nutcracker," he read aloud. "That's my—"

"Favourite?" Narcissa smiled. "I know. I thought that might cheer you up."

Draco looked from the tickets in his hand to the slightly smug smile on his mother's face, and found himself wondering just how ill Teddy Lupin really was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #9 Hot Santa

It was another week before Hermione forgave Harry for what she termed his _scene_ at the party. And even then it was only after some serious grovelling on his part, and no small amount of emotional blackmail on hers.

Hence his current situation.

"Where did you say you were going again?" Harry looked up from the comprehensive list of rules and contact numbers that Hermione had provided. Honestly, he thought, after five years of helping to raise Teddy, he was more than capable of watching Rose for one night.

"I didn't." Hermione didn't turn away from the mirror as she applied her makeup – but Harry could see the faint blush in her reflection. 

"But what if I need to get hold of you," Harry probed when she elaborated no further. It wasn't often he got to enjoy a discomfited Hermione.

"Send your Patronus." Hermione snapped the lid back on her lipstick. "You don't need a destination for that."

"Now I know you're up to something." Harry met her gaze in the mirror and held it. "Spill."

"Fine." Hermione huffed. "I'll be at the Leaky."

"The Leaky?" Harry's gaze dropped to Hermione's outfit. "I think you're a little over dressed for that. Come on," he coaxed, "what are you really up to?"

Hermione glared, but after more than twelve years of friendship, Harry was practically immune. "Hannah's organised a _Ladies Night_ in the function room upstairs," she admitted begrudgingly.

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "So, basically, while I'm watching your daughter, and your husband is at work, you'll be ogling hot men in their underwear?"

Hermione turned around finally, a small smile on her face. "Well, it is almost Christmas, so I imagine there'll be Santa hats, too."

"Stripping Santa's?" Harry grinned broadly now.

"Probably." Hermione's chin jutted defiantly. "Jealous?"

"A little, yes," Harry admitted with a wry laugh.

*

After numerous attempts to persuade his goddaughter it was bedtime, Harry was finally successful.

With Rose tucked up safe and sound, Harry settled down on the large, squashy sofa, the remote to Ron's pride and joy in his hand. Careful to avoid the _adult_ options, however tempted he was, Harry surfed through the channels for something suitably mind numbing. He was spoilt for choice.

Before he had chance to decide, the Floo roared to life, and a harried-looking Draco Malfoy emerged.

"Weasley, you owe me big..." His words dried up as he spotted Harry.

Harry's own mouth was equally as dry as he took in the sight of Draco in his Auror robes.

"Potter," Draco said carefully. The word sounded odd coming from him after so long, but then Harry winced as he remembered why.

"Malfoy." Harry nodded faintly and muted the TV. "Ron's not here."

Draco frowned, tiny wrinkles creasing his usually smooth brow – Harry's fingers definitely did not itch to smooth them away. "But he owled. Asked me to bring this over." Draco gestured with the buff folder in his hand.

Harry shrugged. "He's at work."

Draco shook his head. "No," he said slowly. "No, he's not."

"Obviously you need to keep better tabs on your partner, Malfoy." Harry didn't mean it to sound quite so snide, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Look, don't get—" Draco stopped and ran one hand distractedly through his hair. "I've just come from the Ministry," he said finally. "And I can assure you that Weasley is not there."

Suddenly two and two added up to four for Harry. "Hermione," he said tersely, then shook his head. He really should have known something was going on when she suggested what colour jumper he wear that evening.

Draco gave a faint sort of a smile. "That sounds about right. She just can't stop herself from meddling, that one."

There was an odd sort of affection in Draco's tone as he spoke. Harry wanted to point out that Hermione was _his_ friend, and that Draco should back off and get his own. But he had the distant echoes of Hermione's recent strictures on politeness and maturity still ringing in his ears, so instead what he said was, "Seeing as you've had a wasted journey, can I at least offer you a drink?"

Draco looked shocked. Which considering his exceptional ability to mask his feelings, was incredibly telling. He nodded. "Thank you. That would be good."

Harry got to his feet, mentally plotting dire revenge on his friend when she returned home. "Coffee all right for you?"

Draco nodded again. "Please. White—"

"Two sugars," Harry finished up. "I still remember." The start of a flush crept up Draco's neck, but Harry turned away quickly and headed into the kitchen. "I won't be a minute." 

Clearly a minute was too long for Draco, because Harry heard footsteps behind him. He tried to ignore it, and busied himself with filling the kettle, grabbing the mugs, and generally trying to keep his emotions in check.

"This is a bit surreal, isn't it?"

Harry turned round and gazed at Draco, who was lounging against the nearby worktop. His robes lay draped over a nearby chair. "Huh?" It was an effort not to stare at Draco's forearms.

"This." Draco gestured between them. "Us."

Harry swallowed hard. It had been a long time since he'd heard that word used to refer to the two of them. "I guess," he said softly, turning back to the kettle. "We can thank Hermione for that."

There was a moment's silence, then, "Harry."

Harry started in surprise; he could practically feel Draco's breath ghosting over his nape. He turned around slowly, and even though he was expecting it, Harry was still surprised by just how close Draco now was. "What?" he asked, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded.

Draco just stared back at him in silence for the longest time. It reminded Harry of the last time they'd been together, when they'd both been so desperate to memorise the way each other looked. 

"Can I just..." Draco's words trailed off as he raised one hand slowly to Harry's face.

Harry gulped and shook his head. 

Draco's hand stilled mere inches from Harry's skin. "Why not?"

"It's too late," Harry replied, but even to his own ears the words didn't sound convincing. 

"I've missed you." Draco's hand slid around the back of Harry's neck, his fingers toying with the wisps of hair just as he'd used to.

And suddenly it was too much for Harry to bear. He knew there were a million reasons why this was a bad idea, why he should just pull away and ask Draco to leave, but it just felt so achingly familiar, so _right_ , that he knew there was no way he could. What he did instead was reach out and place his hands on Draco's waist.

"Missed you, too," Harry mumbled, as he tugged Draco closer and pressed their lips together. 

Harry held his breath, waiting for it all to come crashing down, for Draco to pull away and leave him again. But Draco's arms were wrapped around his neck, and their bodies were pressed close enough together so as to leave Harry in no doubt how much they both wanted this.

The sound of a soft giggle behind them was like a bucket of cold water over Harry's arousal. He pulled away sharply, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to glare at his goddaughter.

"Rose, what are you doing out of bed?"

She giggled some more. "You kissin," she replied happily, completely ignoring the question.

Draco flashed Harry a brief, panicked look. "We were just talking, sweetheart."

Rose gave Draco a look that reminded all concerned that she was still Hermione's daughter, however young she might me.

"Let's get you back to bed," Harry said, and he stepped away from Draco with an apologetic smile.

As he ushered a protesting child out of the kitchen, Harry stopped in the door way and turned round. Draco was watching him. "I'll be as quick as I can. Wait for me?"

Draco nodded, and Harry hurried from the room, wondering if Hermione would mind him using an ever-so-gentle Body Bind on her daughter, given the circumstances.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #10 Snowy London

The streets of London were cold. Bloody freezing in fact. But despite the bitter temperatures, Draco wasn't ready to go home yet. He had too much to think about, too many unanswered questions swirling around in his brain – so he simply adjusted his collar against the falling snow and continued his walk.

Even now, he could still feel the touch of Harry's lips against his own – something he'd barely dared to hope he would ever experience again. One brief kiss, the barest of touches, and yet Draco had felt more in those few seconds than in his entire two year relationship with Astoria.

But Draco hadn't been lying when he'd told Harry he needed time to sort things out, to explain to people. It wasn't as simple as just falling into Harry's arms, however appealing a prospect that was.

*

Draco rapped sharply on Pansy's front door. Yes, it was late, but he needed to talk – desperately – and she was the only person he could possibly turn to.

What Draco wasn't expecting was to be greeted by the sight of George Weasley answering the door wearing little more than Pansy's skimpy pink robe.

"Ah, Malfoy." George seemed completely unabashed by his current attire. "How nice of you to drop by."

Draco didn't reply. He was too busy goggling at the vision in front of him.

"Draco? Is that you?" Pansy tugged the door fully open. She was, to Draco's infinite relief, fully clothed. She took one look at Draco's face and turned to George. "Give us a minute, would you?"

George made himself scare, and Draco let out a sigh of relief. "Sorry," he said. "I seem to have called at a bad time."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Draco, it's eleven o'clock at night. What did you expect?"

"Not that, I can assure you."

Pansy just grinned. "I think it rather suits him." She stepped back from the door. "Now, are you coming in or what?"

*

"Please don't tell me you just left?" Pansy snagged her glass of wine off the nearby coffee table and glared intently at her friend.

"No." Draco bristled. "I'm not a complete coward."

Pansy gave a pointed cough.

"Fine." Draco huffed. "I thought about it. I could have left. But..."

"But what?" Pansy prodded.

Draco drank deeply from his own glass before placing it carefully on the table. "I don't think I could walk away again," he admitted softly. "Not a second time."

"But that's good, isn't it?" Pansy placed a hand gently on his knee. "I mean, I know you said you were over Potter, but you weren't fooling either of us. At least now you'll be happy."

Draco placed his own hand over Pansy's and squeezed gently. "It's not that simple."

"It really is," she replied firmly. " _You_ want him. Merlin knows _he_ wants you. I really don't see the problem."

"Nothing's changed though," Draco pointed out. "The reasons I left before, they're still true now."

"All that _having an heir and continuing the family name_ crap?" Pansy asked, her own opinion on the matter clear in her tone.

"That's part of it."

Pansy shook her head. "Your family name isn't exactly worth protecting at the moment," she pointed out ruthlessly. "And as for this _heir_ business, well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I think your chances of actually getting it up for a woman are fairly remote."

Draco swallowed a biting retort – Pansy probably had a very good point. "Oh, Merlin," he groaned suddenly. "I need to talk to Astoria. She thinks we're getting married."

"Well, the sooner you disillusion her, the better for all," Pansy said briskly. "Now, tell me how you left things with Potter?"

"He's invited me round for dinner tomorrow night." Draco took a sip of his drink. "We're going to talk."

"Talk?" Pansy raised one eyebrow disbelievingly. "Is that what you kids are calling it nowadays?" She paused and gave Draco a sly wink. "Just don't forget the lube."

"Pansy!" Draco flushed; he couldn't help it. Even after over twenty years of friendship, Pansy's own particular brand of honesty never failed to embarrass him.

"Don't pretend like the thought hadn't crossed your mind." Pansy refilled her glass, leant back on the sofa and settled her feet on the table. "And I expect details."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #11 Christmas Sprinkles

"Pass me the oven gloves, would you, Harry?"

Harry reached for the holly covered gloves and handed them to a definitely harried-looking Hermione. "Remind me again why you're doing this?" He looked at the kitchen table, its surface already covered with earlier batches of baking.

Hermione pushed a loose strand of hair back from her face. "Rosie's playgroup is having a Christmas party. And she very kindly told the woman in charge all about _Mummy's yummy cupcakes_." She paused here and extracted another tray of golden buns from the oven. "I could hardly say no."

"That explains you," Harry replied as he busily whisked a batch of royal icing. "But how come I got dragged into it? I don't even have any kids."

"No," Hermione said. "But she is your goddaughter, so it's only fair you share the burden. Besides, I'm letting you decorate them."

Harry snorted. "It's going to take more than shiny, silver sprinkles to convince me," he grumbled, his arm tiring rapidly.

"Fine." Hermione closed the oven door with a bang. "You're helping because you're a very good friend, and because you don't want me to tell Ron what you got up to in this very kitchen last night."

Harry flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

"Honestly." Hermione began loading the sink fully of dirty pots. "Rosie's two, she's not stupid. She was very excited to tell me all about _'Arry and Drake Kissin_."

Harry groaned. He should have known there was no way he could keep it a secret."

"I can't believe you weren't going to tell me." Hermione sounded more than a little put out.

"There's nothing to tell, really." Harry reached for the nearest bottle of food colouring and added a few drops.

"Nothing to tell?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "Harry, you've been pining over Draco for the last two years, and—"

"I don't think—"

"Don't deny it. We both know it's true. And all of a sudden you're kissing him, and in my kitchen, too!"

Harry picked up the mixing bowl and made his way to the kitchen table. He sank into one of the empty chairs. "I don't know why you're so surprised. You _were_ the one who set us up last night, after all."

"Yes, so you could talk like adults. And hopefully stop arguing every five minutes. I never dreamt..."

"Me either," Harry said softly. He focussed his attention on icing the cakes – he knew there would be too much emotion visible on his fact at that moment.

Hermione slipped into the chair opposite. She reached across the table and placed her hand over Harry's. "How was it?"

Harry did look up this time. "Confusing," he said simply.

Hermione nodded. "That's understandable. You must have a lot to sort out, and Draco will have quite a bit of explaining to do."

"He's going to see Astoria today."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "That's good, isn't it? I mean, not for Astoria, obviously. But it shows that he's serious."

Harry shrugged. "If he does it." Right now he wasn't allowing himself to think about the future – he couldn't bear to be disappointed a second time. 

"I'm sure he will." Hermione sounded so confident, so certain, that Harry ached to believe her.

"He's coming round for dinner tonight, so I suppose I don't have long to wait to find out."

Hermione jerked her hand away. "You're cooking for Draco? Tonight?"

Harry nodded nervously. Hermione had _that_ look in her eyes. "Yes. Around 8ish." 

"But, Harry, that's only six hours away." Hermione's chair scraped loudly along the floor as she got to her feet. "Why didn't you say so – all this could have waited." She gestured to the table with a sweep of her hand.

"I just did tell you."

"You should have said earlier." Hermione cast a Stasis Charm on the table – Harry just managed to whisk his hand away in time.

"Come on," she said, tugging the floury apron over her head.

"Where to?" Harry was beginning to think a trip to St Mungo's might be in order.

"We need to start getting you ready," Hermione said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But I've got ages yet," Harry protested.

"So you've decided what you're cooking, have you? You've shopped for ingredients, made sure you have something nice – and clean, to wear?"

Harry shook his head reluctantly.

"Exactly." Hermione folded her arms over her chest, and Harry suddenly understood what people meant when they said men married their mothers. "Floo. Now," she snapped, and then turned on her heel.

Her tone brooked no argument, and Harry had more sense than to try. He gave one last longing look at the kitchen – suddenly silver sprinkles didn't seem such a bad prospect after all.

*


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #12 Snow-covered graveyard

In the end Draco decided to forgo the lube, despite Pansy's helpful owling of some earlier that afternoon. He took, instead, a bottle of wine, snaffled from the Manor's wine cellars under the curious gaze of his mother.

He had yet to speak to his mother about what was to come – confessing to Astoria had been more than enough for one day – but a part of him suspected it would not go as ill as he had once expected.

The door to Harry's house loomed large in front of him, and Draco couldn't help the slight tremble that ran through his hand as he lifted the cast iron knocker.

"Good evening, Draco." The door opened to reveal a smiling Hermione.

Draco stared in surprise. He'd been unsure what to expect this evening, but surely Harry hadn't invited his friends to join them. "Hermione," he acknowledged with a nod of his head.

Hermione ushered him inside. "Don't look so worried; I'm not stopping. I just popped around to offer Harry some moral support."

"I see," Draco replied stiltedly. Her words didn't lessen the twisting in his belly any.

"He'll be down in a minute." Hermione seemed oblivious to Draco's inner turmoil. "He's just getting changed."

Draco shrugged out of his cloak and settled in on the nearby hooks. "Everything smells lovely."

"Harry's been slaving over a hot stove all afternoon." Hermione glanced quickly in the direction of the stairs and then turned back to Draco, her expression suddenly serious. "I'm not asking for details," she said quietly. "But I need to know that you're serious about this. I won't let you—"

"I told Astoria," Draco said simply.

Hermione gazed intently at him for what seemed like the longest time, then a bright smile broke out over her face. She reached out and took hold of Draco's hands, squeezing gently. "You did the right thing."

Draco nodded. "I know. Just a shame it's two years too late."

"It's not too late," Hermione insisted. "You can..."

Anything further she had planned to say was cut off by the creak of footsteps on the stairs.

"Do I need to warn Ron that you're putting the moves on his partner?" Harry teased, with a nod at their joined hands.

"Well, you never know," Hermione replied airily, then she winked at Draco. "I could be tempted."

"Don't you have a husband to get home to?" It was said good-naturedly, but Draco fancied he saw a spark of possessiveness and it caused a flare of _want_ to burst through him.

Fortunately, Hermione took the broad hint well, and after a quick peck to each of their cheeks, she headed off to the Floo.

*

"This is lovely," Draco commented as he swallowed another mouthful of food. They'd sat eating in virtual silence so far and he could bear it no longer.

"Hermione helped," Harry admitted softly. Draco could make out the faint flush on his cheeks in the candle light. "I remembered how much you enjoyed it when we were in France."

It was the first time that Harry had referenced their past relationship in a positive light, and Draco was not willing to let the moment pass. "That was a wonderful holiday, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Apart from your sunburn." Harry smiled softly and it warmed Draco's heart.

"I have delicate skin." Draco gave a pout that Harry had always been particularly susceptible to in the past.

"You were too vain to wear sun cream," Harry retorted, but there was no heat in his words.

"It makes my skin greasy, and it gives me _spots_." Draco said the last word with such horror in his tone that Harry let out a chuckle.

"You didn't seem to have much problem with me rubbing cream onto you later that night."

Draco felt the heat rise in his cheeks at the memory of that particular evening – Harry's hands smoothing cream all over his naked...Draco brought that line of thought to a halt immediately. A hard on at the dinner table was hardly appropriate.

Harry had gone quiet as well, though, and when Draco looked closer he noticed a matching flush and a slightly glazed look in Harry's eyes. And all Draco could think about in that moment was how stupid, how fucking stupid he had been to walk away from this, and how nothing on earth would persuade him to do it again.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out suddenly. He knew the words weren't enough, but he couldn't keep them inside any longer.

Harry's gaze shifted to meet his, and Draco was startled to feel the touch of Harry's hand as it came to rest on top of his own.

"Me too," Harry said softly. "So much wasted time."

"Not anymore." Draco shook his head. "This is what I want."

"You're sure about that?"

Draco could see the uncertainty, the fear of rejection in Harry's eyes, and the stab of guilt at knowing he was responsible was almost crippling. "Yes," he replied firmly. "More sure that I've ever been. I want this; I want you."

"What about—"

"I went to see Astoria today," Draco interrupted, anticipating Harry's concerns. "She knows it's over between us. I told her the truth."

And just like that, it was as if someone had switched a light on behind Harry's eyes. They brightened noticeably, and a truly genuine smile curved his lips. "I should feel bad for her," he said. "After all, I know how she's feeling right now. But I just..."

"I know." Draco swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.

"You really don't," Harry said, and the noise he let out was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "But that's okay. It's all in the past."

*

Draco still had trouble believing just how lucky he was. Only a week ago he had been trying to resolve himself to a loveless marriage, and now, just seven days later, he was curled up on a sofa with the one person he'd never dared to dream he could have ever again.

Harry's arms were warm and strong around Draco's waist, holding him firmly against a broad chest. Their legs were tangled together, feet brushing teasing strokes along each other's calves. And then there were Harry's lips, pressing the gentlest of kisses to Draco's neck – to that spot behind his ear that made Draco's entire body turn to jelly.

"It looks beautiful in here," Draco commented, trying to distract himself from the urge to just ravish Harry on the spot.

Harry slid a teasing hand under the hem of Draco's jumper, fingers feathering over the taut skin of his belly. "I can't take the credit, I'm afraid. Hermione did the tree, and Neville made the garlands."

"Longbottom?" Draco asked incredulously.

"He's very good with his hands," Harry replied, his fingers now circling Draco's navel.

"He's not the only one," Draco muttered, praying his sudden erection was not so visible.

Harry laughed. "I'm being serious. He made those wreaths as well." Harry nodded in the direction of the fireplace.

Draco had to admit that the circles of evergreens, berries, and winter flowers did look rather attractive. "Maybe he could do one for the Manor," Draco mused. "It would have to be bigger, though. Those would be a bit small to hang on the front door."

Harry's hand slid out from under his jumper, and Draco couldn't help but panic that he'd said something wrong. "They're not for the house," Harry said softly. "They're for my parents, and Sirius."

Draco took hold of Harry's hands and laced their fingers together. "They're beautiful," he murmured.

"They are, aren't they," Harry agreed, before pressing a gentle kiss to Draco's temple. "Will you come with me?"

"To visit your parents?" Draco asked, his heart pounding in his chest at the prospect.

"Yes." Harry tightened hi s hold around Draco's waist. "I was thinking of going tomorrow."

"I have to work tomorrow," Draco admitted reluctantly. "I won't be done until about six."

"That's okay. I prefer to go when it's dark," Harry admitted. "There's less people around then, and it kind of reminds me of the first time I was there. Especially with all the snow at the moment."

"In that case, I'd be honoured." Draco burrowed deeper into Harry's embrace. He'd never felt more grateful for a second chance in his life – not even the one he was given after the war came close.

*


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #13 Christmas Fireplace

Harry woke late on Sunday morning. He'd spent the best part of the night tossing and turning restlessly in bed, unable to shut his mind down enough for sleep.

Hence his bleary eyed condition when he finally made it down to the kitchen for breakfast. He dismissed Kreacher's offers of toast or porridge, opting instead for several strong cups of coffee, drunk under the disapproving gaze of his house-elf.

Not wanting to go back to bed – it was almost noon, after all – but not really in the mood for activity either, Harry snagged one last cup of black liquid and headed towards the living room. His sofa was incredibly comfortable and perfect for lounging purposes. Plus, it had all the associated memories of the night before – and Draco.

*

Kreacher was very careful to keep the large, gloomy house warm for his master, and there was already a fire blazing merrily in the grate. Harry sighed in satisfaction, as he felt the tendrils of warmth curl around his body.

He grabbed the latest edition of _Quidditch Weekly_ and sank down gratefully onto the soft cushions. Propping several of them behind his head, Harry raised lifted his feet off the floor as well, and settled down for a relaxing afternoon.

It was not to be, however, because Harry had made the fatal mistake of not locking the Floo the previous night after Draco's departure.

"Someone looks like they had a late night." Hermione emerged from the flames, a grin on her face and a squirming toddler in her arms.

Harry groaned. "It's too early for this."

"Nonsense," Hermione replied briskly, placing Rose onto her godfather's stomach. "Half the day's gone already."

Rose promptly tumbled herself off the sofa. Usually Harry was her favourite person, but now it seemed the jolly Santa on the hearth had won her affections.

Hermione cast a quick Shield Charm on the flames. Satisfied that her chattering child was in no danger, she turned back to Harry. "So?"

"What?" Harry hid his amusement at Hermione's obvious irritation behind his mug.

"Don't you _what_ me, Harry Potter." Hermione plopped herself down on the sofa as well, and whacked Harry with one of the cushions for good measure. "You know full well what. I want to know about last night. How did it go? What did you—"

"It was nice," Harry interrupted before she hit her stride.

"Nice?" Hermione repeated, her nose wrinkled. "You spent the night alone with Draco – the man you love – and all you can say is _it was nice?_ "

Harry flushed a little – he still wasn't particularly comfortable talking about his feelings. "What do you want to know?"

"Men." Hermione huffed. "Did you at least talk? Or were your mouths otherwise engaged all night?"

"We talked," Harry protested. "There wasn't much of...well, you know." He squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't want to rush things between us this time."

"That's good." Hermione nodded approvingly.

"Yeah. And Draco's told Astoria as well, so that's good too, right?" Harry looked up uncertainly – he still wasn't a hundred percent secure about this.

Hermione reached over and patted his hand. "Of course it is."

"He still has to tell his parents, though."

Hermione dismissed this concern with a wave of her hand. "I'd be very surprised if Narcissa doesn't at least suspect part of it – mothers just know these things about their children. And Lucius, well, what's he going to do from a cell in Azkaban?"

Harry brightened noticeably at this. "He's coming with me tonight," he said quietly.

"To see your parents? Oh, Harry, that's lovely." Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, and her eyes had a suspiciously glassy sheen.

"Are you crying?" Harry didn't mean it to come out quite so blunt, but he was more than a little surprised.

"No." Hermione blinked furiously and then scowled. "And never mind about me, what about you? When are you going to start telling people? Draco's made the first move; it's your turn now."

"But everyone knows I'm gay."

"Yes, but not who with." Hermione cast a quick eye over towards her daughter, then satisfied all was okay, she continued. "You need to tell Ron at the very least. He's going to be hurt enough that you didn't tell him the first time around. Imagine what he'll be like if he finds out about you and Draco from someone else?"

Harry paled but was distracted by an excited squeal from the other side of the room.

"'Arry and Drake," Rose sing-songed, and then clapped excitedly.

Hermione beamed proudly at her daughter, before turning a pointed gaze on her best friend. "And you might want to do it quickly. I can't get her to stop doing that, and even Ron's going to work it out eventually."

*


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #14 Harrods

Draco was frustrated.

He burst from the Floo and strode quickly across the room, straight to the drink's cabinet. Once in possession of a large Firewhisky, he took several deep breaths. 

Harry was driving him crazy.

Not in a bad way, not really. It was just this _taking it slow_ business. Draco knew and understood the reasons behind Harry's reluctance. Merlin, if the positions had been reversed, Draco was fairly sure he wouldn't have given Harry a second chance in the first place, never mind hopped straight into bed with him. 

But none of this understanding helped relieve the constant state of arousal that Draco had found himself in during the last few days. Brought to the edge by Harry's kisses and shy touches, but never achieving the release his body cried out for. 

He'd toyed with the idea of pushing a little tonight. Of maybe _accidentally_ rubbing against Harry as they had their goodnight snog on the sofa – but the more reasonable part of his brain pointed out that as they'd just visited his boyfriend's parents' graves, maybe it wasn't the best time to do it.

So it was back to the Manor and, if things didn't calm down soon, another cold shower. And all that icy water was wreaking havoc with Draco's skin.

"Ah, Draco, darling."

Problem solved, Draco thought to himself as he turned around. "Good evening, Mother."

Narcissa stepped out of the fireplace and quickly slid out of her cloak. Draco stared.

"You're not wearing robes."

Narcissa gave a girlish smile. "No," she replied, and then did half a twirl. "Do you like it?"

Draco ran an approving eye over the stylish, yet definitely Muggle dress. "It's beautiful," he said. "Just...different."

Narcissa smiled, and then removed several tiny packages from her cloak pocket. A swish of her wand and they were resized. "Robes wouldn't have been appropriate this evening," she replied.

Once again Draco stared – this time at the extensive collection of large green shopper bags. He squinted at the gold writing, and then looked at his mother. "You've been shopping in Muggle London." It came out as more of an accusation than an actual question.

Narcissa nodded; she was too busy rifling through her purchases to pay much heed. "Yes, your Aunt Andromeda took me. It was wonderful – all lit up with pretty lights." She stilled then and turned to her son. "Don't tell your father I said that, though. You know how he gets."

Draco stifled a slightly hysterical laugh. He knew exactly how his father got, and he rather suspected that the next time Draco visited Azkaban, Lucius would have rather more to worry about than his wife's sudden predilection for Muggle department stores. "You look like you bought the whole of Harrods," he observed, mentally reckoning up just how much of a dent his mother had made in their vault.

"Harrods?" Narcissa's brow creased with the tiniest of frowns.

"It's the name of the shop, Mother." Draco rolled his eyes. "You've got enough of their bags with it written all over them."

Narcissa gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't start getting snippy. You've been in a much better mood these last few days. And anyway, you don't think I bought all this without getting a little something for my favourite boy?"

"Really?" Draco couldn't help himself; he stepped closer without even thinking about it.

"Of course. Here you go."

Draco delved eagerly into one of the large bags and pulled out a soft, black cashmere jumper. "It's lovely," he said, slowly running a hand over the fabric. 

"Isn't it. I couldn't decide on the colour, so I got you one of each."

Draco's eyes widened as he inspected the bags contents again. Sure enough there was the exact same jumper, only in grey, and in purple.

"The black one's my favourite," Narcissa continued. "I thought perhaps you could wear it on Christmas Day. I've invited Andromeda to join us this year, since I'm assuming Astoria will not be there." She looked pointedly at Draco.

Draco shifted awkwardly – he still hadn't got around to formally telling his mother about the break up. "No," he replied quietly. "She and I are no longer together."

"So I hear," Narcissa said. "But I would have preferred to hear it first from you."

"I'm sorry." Draco hung his head slightly, unwilling to meet his mother's questioning gaze.

"I don't know why you felt the need to keep it a secret. If anything, I'm relieved."

Draco looked up in shock. "What?"

"Well, you obviously had no intention of marrying the poor girl. Which is just as well, considering you quite obviously prefer men."

"Mother." Draco didn't think it was possible for him to go any redder.

Narcissa reached out and patted his cheek gently. "Don't be so embarrassed, darling. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed," Draco protested. But then he saw his mother's raised eyebrow, and added, "Anymore."

Narcissa nodded, and then turned her attention back to her shopping. Draco just stared at her in amazement. He couldn't believe it had been that easy. Something that had kept him up at night since he was a teenager, that had twisted his insides into knots until he wanted to vomit, and she just accepted it _like that_. He quickly decided to leave it at that for tonight – he didn't want to push his luck by adding Harry's name to the mix just yet.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek. "Thank you," he murmured. It was for far more than the jumpers, and from the look in Narcissa's eyes, it was clear that she understood.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #15 Naughty or Nice Tickets

"You'll be all right for half an hour or so, won't you?" Harry asked, as he paused in the doorway.

George glanced exaggeratedly around the quiet shop. "I think I'll just about manage to cope. But if I get hit by a sudden stampede, I'll send up the bat signal."

Harry rolled his eyes. He'd known introducing George to Muggle pop-culture would come back to bite him in the arse. "Just remember I still have to buy your present," Harry warned. "So be nice."

"When am I not?" George demanded in mock outrage. "You wound me."

Harry shook his head at his friend's theatrics. "I'll see you later. Try not to break anything, or anyone, in the meantime." He didn't stick around to hear George's reply, but could hear muffled shouts as the door slammed shut behind him.

*

Diagon Alley, the week before Christmas, was not the place to be if you had any sense. But then, Harry thought, if he actually had any sense, he would have done his Christmas shopping long before now. Hermione always harped on at him to be better organised, and Harry had the best of intentions – he had the lists to prove it – but it just never worked out that way.

A flash of red caught Harry's attention. He turned just in time to see Draco emerge from Madam Malkins, resplendent in his Auror robes, and clutching numerous bags. Harry quelled the urge to rush forward and touch.

"Is one of those for me?" he murmured, sneaking up behind his boyfriend.

Draco turned around and smiled lazily. "Didn't anyone ever warn you about sneaking up on an Auror, Potter?"

Harry laughed. "Don't try to sidetrack me, Malfoy." He reached out and tried to peek in one of the bags.

Draco slapped his hands away. "Behave."

"Ah, so one of them is for me," Harry replied smugly.

"That all depends," Draco said, a well-practised smirk on his face

"On what, exactly?" 

"On whether you've been a good boy this year or not." 

The way Draco said it, and the look in his eyes, caused a shiver to course through Harry's body. But he gave himself a shake – Diagon Alley, in broad daylight, was hardly the place. "I can't believe you even have to ask that." Harry gave his best pout – the one he'd learnt from Draco himself.

Draco arched one eyebrow in a maddening fashion. "Of course you'd say that."

Harry mock-glared for a moment, and then let out a triumphant noise. "I can prove it," he said suddenly.

Draco gave a slight leer. "Are you going to be a good boy for me then, Harry?"

Harry's cheeks flushed at the implications of that. "Behave," he muttered, before digging deep into his robe pocket. A moment later he produced a crumpled slip of paper and thrust it at Draco. "There you go."

Draco took the paper, an amused twinkle in his eyes. He smoothed it out and then read aloud, "You've been nice." He chuckled and looked at Harry. "Do I even want to know why you're carrying this around with you?"

"It's part of a promotion George has planned for the shop on Christmas Eve. I think the idea is that if you find one of these in the shop, you get some sort of prize." Harry shrugged. "He did explain, but I wasn't really paying attention."

"So what happens to the _naughty_ people?" Draco asked.

Harry faked a shudder. "Where George is concerned, I dread to think."

*


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #16 Malfoy Manor

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea." The uncertainty was clear in Harry's tone.

Draco pressed another open-mouthed kiss to Harry's throat. "Don't be silly. It's a brilliant idea." Draco worried the wet flesh slightly with his teeth, causing Harry to whimper softly. "See," he said smugly.

"But what if your mum comes in?" Harry wriggled and the resulting friction caused Draco's entire being to ache with need.

He pushed himself up slightly and looked down at Harry. "Is it absolutely necessary to mention my mother when we're like this? You could scar me for life."

Harry smiled. That soft, indulgent sort of a smile that made Draco want to wrap him up tightly and keep him forever. "Sorry." Harry raised one hand and gently tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Draco's ear. "I just didn't think that...well, she doesn't know about us yet, does she?"

"No." Draco shook his head a little and the strand of hair fell free. "I'm going to tell her, I promise. But I—"

"Shhh." Harry placed a finger over Draco's lips, effectively stilling them. "I understand why. I just thought that finding us snogging on her living room floor is probably not the best way to break the news."

"You may have a point." Draco frowned slightly for a moment before his expression cleared. "She'll be gone for ages, though. She and Aunt Andromeda can talk for Britain once they get started."

"Are you sure?" Harry didn't sound convinced.

Draco pressed his hips down firmly against Harry's for a brief moment. "I'm sure," he said, and then revelled in the way Harry's eyes darkened.

Harry said nothing further. He buried one hand in Draco's hair and tugged him close, pressing their lips together with soft, but definitely eager kisses.

Just as Draco summoned the nerve to grind himself against Harry – the need for release overriding his restraint and good sense – he felt the gentle touch of Harry's other hand sliding under the hem of his jumper. It was almost innocent, but there was something about the teasing way Harry's fingertips skimmed over his heated flesh that made Draco almost sob with need.

"Please, Harry," he begged.

"Soon," Harry murmured, and then raked his blunt fingernails over Draco's skin.

They had only a few seconds warning as the Floo burst into life. Draco took that time to decide if it was worse to be caught like this, or to pull away and risk having his mother see the erection that was undoubtedly tenting his trousers.

"Well, this certainly makes things easier, wouldn't you say, Andy?"

Draco was fairly sure his face couldn't go any redder. There, on the hearth, was not just his mother, but his Aunt Andromeda, and his cousin Teddy, too.

"Sorry?" Draco was sure he could feel tremors of suppressed laughter shaking Harry's body, and made a mental note to punish him later.

"Don't be sorry." Draco's aunt actually _winked_ at him. "Hello, Harry."

Harry turned his head to the side. "Hey, Andy, Teddy. Sorry about this, Mrs Malfoy."

"No need to apologise, Mr Potter." Narcissa gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

"It's Harry, please."

"All right. Harry it is." Narcissa gave a smile that Draco had rarely seen bestowed on anyone else but him.

"It makes what easier?" Draco asked through gritted teeth.

"What, darling? Oh, well, I was trying to find a way to tell you that Mr—Harry will be joining us on Christmas Day. But it hardly seems to be a problem anymore."

"I am?" Harry frowned in confusion.

"Yes, you are." Andromeda smiled sheepishly. "I was working out a way to tell you the news as well. Narcissa invited me to join her for Christmas, and naturally that means you and Teddy as well."

"Well, now that's all sorted," Draco snapped, feeling his arousal flag dismally. "If you don't mind?"

"Of course, dear, don't mind us. We'll be out of your hair in just a tick."

As the door slammed shut behind them, Draco slumped forward and buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck with a groan.

Harry just giggled madly.

"Next time, we're doing this at your house and I'll invite Weasley round. Then let's see how funny you find it."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #17 Malfoy Manor

“You’re late.”

Harry had only just set foot through the doors of the Manor and was admiring the Christmas decorations when Draco came hurrying across the marble floor towards him. “Sorry.” He gave a sheepish look. “I got caught up at Ron and Hermione’s.”

Draco was busily divesting Harry of his cloak but this stopped him in his tracks. “How did he take it?”

“You know, Ron,” Harry replied. “Hot-headed as ever.”

“Did you two fall out?” Draco tossed Harry’s cloak into the outstretched arms of a waiting house-elf. “If he upset you, I’ll—”

“He didn’t.” Harry shook his head. “Not really. It’s not like he doesn’t have reason to be upset.”

“I fail to see why. Just because I’m his partner, and you’re his best friend, doesn’t mean he gets a say in our lives.”

“It’s not that that’s bothering him,” Harry explained, raking one hand through his hair. “He was okay when I told him we were together. Shocked, understandably, given that until last week you had a long term girlfriend, but okay.”

Draco shifted awkwardly. “So what’s his problem then?”

“Because I didn’t tell him when we were together before. That there was this huge part of my life that I kept secret from him. And the fact that Hermione knew didn’t help either.”

“She knew?” Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

“Focus, will you,” Harry replied, then added, “And anyway, you’re a fine one to talk. I suppose Pansy just figured it out for herself, did she?”

A faint blush coloured Draco’s cheeks. “So how’s Ron now? Has Hermione calmed him down from the ceiling, or can I expect to be hexed when I get to work tomorrow?”

Harry laughed. “Hermione calmed him down eventually. You know his temper never lasts that long.”

“So he’s not sulking then?”

“I know Christmas is a time for miracles, but I think you might be expecting too much on that one.” Harry stepped closer and placed his hands on Draco’s waist. “Enough about Ron, though. Aren’t you going to say hello properly?”

Draco leant in and pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “Hello,” he murmured.

“You call that a hello?” Harry pouted slightly and then tugged Draco closer.

“We don’t have time,” Draco said, resisting. “Dinner’s ready, and Mother doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s and smiled warmly. “Sounds like someone else I know.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #18 Kiss

Draco had never thought of himself as much of a cuddler – he far preferred the freedom and space of his own bed to the claustrophobic embrace of any of his previous partners. 

But since rekindling his relationship with Harry, things had shifted dramatically. 

The first time around, their relationship had been characterised by Draco’s desperate need for secrecy -- so brief, clandestine couplings had been all they could share. But now, with everything out in the open, there was nothing to hold them back.

When Draco woke to the comforting weight of Harry’s arm around his waist, he snuggled back against the broad, muscular chest, and sighed happily. Even though Harry maintained his insistence on ‘taking it slow’, Draco wouldn’t swap these tender, intimate moments, for a lifetime of the hard, frantic sex they had shared in the past.

Harry murmured softly in his sleep, followed by a gentle snuffling sound, and Draco couldn’t restrain himself any longer. Shifting carefully, so as not to disturb his sleeping partner, Draco rolled over in the bed.

Their faces were now only inches apart, and Draco could feel the warm puffs of Harry’s breath against his cheeks. There was something so wonderfully innocent about Harry’s expression while he slept that it caused Draco’s heart to swell. He raised one hand and carefully brushed the messy hair back of Harry’s forehead, before sliding it down to cradle the side of his face.

Every moment that they spent together, Draco thanked whatever gods were listening for bringing Harry back into his life. Draco had always prided himself on his intelligence, but even now he could not believe his utter stupidity at letting go of Harry in the first place.

Leaning forward and pressing an oh-so gentle kiss to the tip of Harry’s nose, Draco made a silent promise to himself, and to Harry, that he would never ever let go again.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #19 Christmas Tree

Harry usually knew exactly what to expect when he came home from work at night – a dark, empty house, with no one but a disgruntled house-elf for company.

So he was more than a little surprised, that evening, when he opened the front door and was greeted by the sight of a gaily decorated hallway. Festive music drifted upstairs from the kitchen, and Harry was certain he could hear the faint echoes of Hermione's tuneless singing.

As interesting as all this was, none of it grabbed Harry's attention as much as the sight of Draco's pert arse straddling the banister did.

"Master Harry." Kreacher popped into the hall – eyes even wider than usual, and looking decidedly shifty. "You is being home early."

"Harry?" Draco turned around to look and promptly lost his footing. He slid to the bottom of the banister, and only Harry's quick thinking and strong hands saved him from having a rather 'painful' accident.

"What on earth are you up to?" Harry climbed the bottom step so he was level with Draco.

Before Draco could respond, there was a clattering sound from the living room, followed by muffled swearing. Then a red-faced Ron appeared.

"Where d'you want this putting?" he grunted, giving a nod to the large tree he and George were currently manhandling. 

Draco looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, before turning and scanning the room.

"Better make that decision quick, Malfoy, or I'm putting it where _I_ want, and trust me when I say you won't like it."

Draco gave a dismissive snort, then began issuing instructions as he clambered off the banister.

Harry watched in open-mouthed surprise as his hallway became a hive of activity. George and Ron Levitated the tree into place at the foot of the stairs, Kreacher was despatched to the Manor for decorations, and Draco returned his attention to the garlands of evergreens he had been dressing the banister with.

"Close your mouth, Harry," Draco chided. He reached out and tipped a finger under Harry's chin. "It's not a good look on you."

Harry gave himself a quick shake. He reached up and took hold of Draco's hand. "What's going on?" he asked firmly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's a little known holiday called Christmas. Though, judging from your house, you've never heard of it."

"I just hadn't got around to decorating."

Draco's expression softened. "Hermione told me that you haven't celebrated properly since...well, you know."

Harry shrugged. "They weren't exactly festive memories."

Draco leant in and pressed a quick kiss to Harry's lips. "Well, things are different now, aren't they," he said briskly. "So I thought it was time for you to start celebrating again."

"I put a few bits up," Harry protested.

"But no tree. You can't have Christmas without a tree," Draco said in horrified tones.

"I'm useless at decorating them," Harry said with a wry smile.

"Well, luckily for you, I happen to be something of an expert."

"Really?" Harry didn't sound convinced.

"Who d'you think did the ones at the Manor?" Draco demanded.

"The house-elves." Harry grinned sheepishly.

"Okay," Draco admitted reluctantly. "So maybe they did the manual labour, but I was the one who told them where to put everything."

"But I don't have a small army of house-elves," Harry pointed out. "And Kreacher's far too old to do it alone."

"No," Draco agreed, "You don't. But you do have the next best thing.

"What's that?" Harry frowned in confusion.

"Weasleys," Draco replied smugly, with a nod at the busy redheads in the hall.

Harry grinned despite himself. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"I believe my mother may have mentioned it once or twice." Draco did not sound like he considered this a bad thing.

"Brat." Harry reached out and ruffled Draco's hair.

"But you still love me anyway."

Harry paused for a moment, and gazed at Draco as he desperately tried to right his hair. "Yes," he said softly. "I do."

*


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #20 Glasses of Wine

Draco was dead tired by the time his shift ended. He and Ron had spent the best part of the day hiding in freezing cold undergrowth, staking out illegal potion traders. Yes, they'd finally arrested their suspects, but Draco was only just regaining the feeling in his toes.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was almost ten. Draco had promised Harry he'd come round after work, but he'd been expecting that to be a lot earlier. Harry was probably tucked up in his bed by now.

Briefly, Draco considered returning to the Manor, and climbing into his own bed. But he quickly dismissed that. Even if Harry was already asleep, Draco could still climb in next to him, snuggle into his warm embrace.

Decision made, he stepped into the Floo. "Twelve Grimmauld Place."

*

"You're still up?" Draco emerged from the fireplace and was greeted by the welcome sight of Harry curled up on the sofa.

Harry stretched out with a small yawn. "Teddy's only just fallen asleep." He shook his head. "I don't know how Andromeda does it."

Draco grinned. "Been running you ragged, has he?"

"You could say that," Harry replied ruefully. "I think Kreacher's aged about fifty years this afternoon."

Draco slipped out of his cloak and draped it carefully over the back of a nearby chair. "I know how he feels." Then he spotted the glass of wine in Harry's hand. "Is there one of those for me?"

Harry nodded in the direction of the side table, where a bottle of wine and an empty glass stood waiting. 

Draco crossed the room in a few strides and quickly filled his glass. Then he turned his attention back to Harry. "Budge up."

Harry shifted into a sitting position and patted the spot between his legs. 

Draco rolled his eyes, but nonetheless settled between Harry's thighs, and leant back against his chest with a contented sigh. "Merlin, I need this after the day I've had."

Harry slid his free arm around Draco's waist, his fingertips slipping teasingly just inside the waistband of Draco's trousers. "Work driving you to drink?" he asked.

Draco nestled further into the embrace. "Not the drink," he admitted, a slight flush heating his cheeks. "You."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #21 Outdoor Christmas Tree

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Draco fastened his cloak and turned to Harry, a tiny crease of concern between his brows.

Harry crossed the room in a few, short strides. He reached out and carefully tied the scarf around Draco's neck. "Positive," he replied, with a warm smile. Then it faltered. "Are you having second thoughts?" he asked softly. "I'd understand," he added hurriedly. "This is an even bigger step for you than me."  
Draco grinned weakly. "Bigger than letting the wizarding world know their Saviour's dating an ex-Death Eater?"

Harry's eyes flashed angrily -- he hated when Draco referred to himself like that. "You weren't," he said stubbornly. "And I don't give a toss what those idiots think. Everyone who matters already knows."

"Except for the older Weasleys," Draco pointed out.

"They'll know soon enough." Harry grinned and held his hand out. "Come on; we'll be late. I told Andromeda we'd meet her five minutes ago."

*

The memorial garden at the end of Diagon Alley was usually a peaceful place – somewhere for people to sit quietly, to contemplate, to gaze at the names of loved ones carved on the large, granite slab.

Tonight, however, it was a hive of activity.

A large Christmas tree had been erected courtesy of the Ministry, decorated with bright lights and glittering decorations. Small children clustered around its base, their sweet voices filling the night air with the soft strains of Muggle carols – while tearful parents looked on proudly.

Harry tried to focus on Teddy, whose hair colour was changing rapidly with the excitement of the evening. But he couldn't ignore the keen gaze of Molly Weasley.

Wishing, for the first time, that he'd taken Hermione's advice and actually talked to his surrogate parents beforehand, Harry reached for Draco's hand and squeezed gently. Draco squeezed back, much to Harry's relief, and turned to smile at him.

"We're under surveillance, I see," he murmured, with a discreet nod in Molly's direction.

"At least she doesn't look angry." Harry sounded nervous at best.

Draco turned to face Molly now, despite Harry's desperate _don't_. Their gazes locked for a moment and then, slowly, Draco inclined his head.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise as Molly's expression softened visibly. "How did you do that?" he asked in wonder.

Draco grinned. "Mothers love me," he said smugly, before pecking a quick kiss to Harry's cheek.

And as he looked from the indulgent smiles on Andromeda's and Narcissa's faces, to the one Molly was currently wearing, Harry found he was forced to agree.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #22 Flaming Christmas Pudding

"You certainly know how to make a splash."

Draco snatched a slice of toast off his plate just in time, as a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ landed in front of him. He looked up from the paper. "Remind me to tell the house-elves not to let you in before noon."

Pansy grinned and plopped herself down in an empty chair. "Someone's crabby this morning," she observed, busily pouring herself a coffee.

Draco chewed a mouthful of toast slowly, enjoying Pansy's obvious irritation at his continued silence. He didn't need to look at the paper to know what it said – he'd already had several owls on the subject that morning. 

"So you and Potter are finally official." Pansy took back the paper and scrutinised it further. "How does it feel to be front page news?"

Draco shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage given the butterflies currently inhabiting his belly. "It's not a bad picture."

Pansy stared at him for a moment and then laughed. "" _Not a bad picture_ ," she scoffed. "You don't fool me, Draco Malfoy. Five Galleons says you've already got that in a frame on your bedside table."

Draco didn't deny it. He wasn't about to admit the truth, though. If Pansy found out he'd actually owled the editor asking for the original, well, he'd never hear the end of it.

"Any Howlers yet?" Pansy's eyes flickered towards the window as if she expected to see a smoking, red envelope winging its way towards them at any moment.

"Surprisingly, none. But then, they don't get the _Prophet_ in Azkaban, do they." Draco banished that sobering thought immediately, and added, "I have had a few offers of threesomes though."

Pansy snorted into her coffee.

"It's not funny," Draco protested, though the crinkles around his eyes said differently. "Some of them were quite detailed, and there were _photographs_."

Pansy gave up all attempts at holding in her laughter now. "Oh, Merlin, that's priceless. I have to see those."

"Mother _Incendio'd_ them," Draco replied, a smile curving his lips now. "I don't think I've ever seen her lost for words before."

Pansy wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I bet she thought Christmas had come early."

Draco shuddered – thinking of his mother, naked men, and sex, all as part of the same equation was not helping his food to go down. A change of topic was called for, he decided. "Speaking of Christmas," he said. "Have you finished all your shopping?" Anything to do with spending money was a sure fire way to distract his best friend.

Pansy paused for a moment before replying, and Draco could tell from her expression that she knew exactly what he was doing. "Pretty much," she said finally. "I don't really have that much to buy this year, what with Mother still boycotting."

"She's boycotting Christmas?" Draco asked incredulously. "Why, for the love of Merlin?"

Pansy shrugged. "She's never been that keen on it, really – just an excuse to eat, drink, and spend a fortune, she says."

Draco frowned a little – he had yet to see the problem. "But you always used to celebrate it," he pointed out. "I remember."

Pansy smiled a little here. "Ah, well, she used to tolerate it before. But ever since Bibby set her hair alight with the Christmas pudding last year, Mother insists that Christmas is cancelled."

Draco chuckled softly. "I can't believe you never told me that before."

"It was more than my life was worth at the time. And you'd have never managed to keep it to yourself, anyway."

"Charming," Draco muttered, buttering himself another slice of toast. "I was going to say you were welcome to join us Christmas Day, but I think I'll take it back now."

"Too late." Pansy grinned smugly. "Your mother already invited me. Just think, it'll give me the chance to really get to know Potter."

"Pansy, don't even think about—"

"You know me, Draco," Pansy interrupted sweetly. "I'm the soul of discretion."

Draco couldn't quite find the words to express just how ridiculous and untrue that statement was – though it was clear from Pansy's expression she knew that herself already. Instead, Draco turned his mind to wondering if it was too late to take Blaise up on his offer of that Skiing holiday – apparently Switzerland was rather lovely at this time of year.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #23 Presents

"They're not mad, are they?" Harry peered nervously around Ron as he stood blocking the doorway.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot." He stood back and gestured inside. "Get in here."

Harry reluctantly crossed the threshold into the Burrow. This was the first time he'd visited since his and Draco's very public _outing_. Hermione and Ron had both told him he was being stupid, that Molly wasn't angry, but Harry was still a little nervous about facing the woman who was like a mother to him.

*

Harry surrendered himself to Molly's enthusiastic hugs. He'd learnt from experience that it was easier to just go along with it – fending her off only made her more persistent.

"I was hoping you'd bring your young gentleman with you." Molly pulled back finally, a beaming smile on her face, and what looked like tears in her eyes. "Arthur and I want the chance to get to know him."

Harry blushed, and then mentally chastised himself for being so silly. "He had some last minute shopping to do."

"Buying presents for you, no doubt," Molly replied, a fond smile on her face. "Ron tells me he's quite smitten with you."

Harry blushed again and shot Ron a glare. "I wouldn't listen to Ron, if I was you," he muttered.

"It's a good job Ron does tell me things," Molly replied. "It's the only way I find anything out nowadays."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, feeling like a naughty schoolboy all over again.

"I don’t know why you felt the need to keep it a secret from us," Molly continued. "Did you think we wouldn't be happy for you?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "I wanted to, but it happened really quickly."

"Leave the boy alone, Molly." Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Arthur entered the conversation. He accepted the outstretched hand, and subsequent hearty shake.

"I just don't want him to feel he can't talk to us." Molly huffed slightly at her husband, who just beamed back at her.

"I'm sure Harry doesn't feel that way." Arthur patted his wife on the arm. "Why don't you get the Christmas presents, and then Harry can be on his way? I'm sure he has places he'd rather be, eh, Harry?" 

Arthur's wink caused Harry to colour furiously. "Erm...I...well..."

"Stop teasing, Arthur. Honestly." Molly shook her head. "Pay no attention to him, Harry."

Harry smiled faintly, but was relieved when Molly bustled away in the direction of the Christmas tree.

"There's a present for Malfoy, as well," Ron said, a faint smirk on his face.

"Really?" Harry hadn't been expecting that.

"Yup. It's soft and squishy, and I bet you can't guess what it is." Ron's smirk was full blown now. 

"A Weasley jumper?" Harry asked faintly, already imagining Draco's expression.

Arthur grinned proudly. "Molly's been knitting like a mad thing ever since she found out about you two. We can't have him feeling left out."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that. Now he can wear it when you come round on Boxing Day."

Harry felt the irresistible urge to shove something in Ron's mouth – something like his fist, maybe. Instead, he took the brightly wrapped presents from Molly's outstretched hands with a slightly forced smile and began desperately thinking of ways to bribe Draco into wearing it.

He could feel a headache coming on already.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #24 Christmas Dinner

"You're actually wearing it." Pansy stared in surprise at Draco as he emerged from the bathroom.

Draco glared defiantly in return. "Is there a problem?" He'd known a reaction like this would be forthcoming from Pansy, but that didn't make it any less irritating. 

Pansy shook her head, a broad grin firmly in place. "No problem. I'm just a little surprised, that's all."

Draco tugged at the hem of his new jumper. It certainly wasn't the outfit he had planned on wearing that day, but something about the apprehension on Harry's face as he'd opened the present had persuaded Draco to change his mind. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Actually, no," Pansy admitted. "I've seen a couple of George's, and you definitely got off lightly."

Draco had to admit the jumper certainly wasn't as garish as the ones he remembered seeing Ron wear at school. It was a lovely soft, black knit, with a silvery-grey 'D' on the front, and if Draco was being honest, he was forced to admit it did feel rather nice against his skin. "Maybe this time next year you'll have one of your very own," Draco teased.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I think it's a bit early to speculate about that. George and I are just having fun at the moment."

"How romantic."

"At least I've had sex recently," Pansy shot back. "Potter still holding out on you, is he?"

Draco glared – Pansy had hit upon a rather sore point. "We're taking it slowly. Unlike you and your Weasley, Harry and I are in an actual proper relationship."

Pansy snorted. "Yes, one in which he holds all the cards."

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco snapped. "It's hardly surprising he doesn't want to rush things, not after what...what I did last time."

"I thought he'd forgiven you for that." Pansy reached out and brushed an imaginary piece of lint off Draco's shoulder. "And if he has, then it's not fair of him to keep throwing it back in your face."

"He doesn't," Draco replied quickly. "It's not like that. We just...you know what? I'm not discussing this with you." Draco held out his arm politely. "Let's just go downstairs – dinner should be ready by now."

*

Draco pushed back from the table and secretly wished he could unbutton his trousers. Despite the deliciously moist turkey waiting on his plate, there was just no way he could fit in another morsel.

Christmas dinner at the Manor was always an affair to remember, but it seemed that the house-elves had outdone themselves this year. Draco rather suspected this had something to do with Harry's presence – he was still something of a celebrity below stairs. 

Just as with the Welcome Feast in his school days, Draco always ate too much at Christmas. Even before sitting down to the main meal he had consumed vast amounts of Honeyduke's finest chocolates. Draco had quite a sweet tooth anyway, but when it was Harry feeding them to him, he was hardly going to say no.

Dessert came next, and as the bowl of plum pudding appeared in front of him, Draco swore he could feel a faint sweat break out on his face. 

"Are you all right, darling?" Narcissa enquired in concern. "You look a little peaky."

"I'm fine, Mother," Draco replied quickly – the last thing he wanted was for her to start trying to dose him with potions. "Just a little full, that's all." 

Narcissa gazed back at him thoughtfully for a moment, but finally seemed satisfied with the answer and returned to her conversation with Andromeda.

Draco felt a comforting squeeze to his thigh, and when he turned to his left he found Harry smiling at him, concern in his eyes also. Draco slid one hand under the table and placed it over Harry's, lacing their fingers together.

"I think you look great," Harry leant in and murmured softly. "Remind me later to show you how grateful I am that you wore the jumper."

And all of a sudden, his full belly wasn't the only thing putting a strain on Draco's trousers

*


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** #25 Christmas in Paris

It was dark when Draco woke. He knew instantly something wasn't right, but it took him a few seconds to work out what exactly. A quick stretch and it all became clear – he was alone in bed. When Draco had fallen asleep, Harry had been wrapped around him like a sleeping cat in its owner's lap – but not anymore.

For a brief moment an icy fear gripped hold of Draco. He didn't dare open his eyes for fear of what he wouldn't find. But then he gave himself a mental shake. This was Harry, after all; he wouldn't just leave.

Draco rolled over slowly, cracked open one eye, and then wanted to laugh out loud at his own stupidity. There, silhouetted against the moonlit window pane, was Harry, only a sheet covering his naked form.

*

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" Draco placed his hands lightly on Harry's waist, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on the warm, pliant flesh.

Harry started in surprise. "What?" He turned his head to face Draco, eyes wide and gleaming in the moonlight. "Oh... no, not at all." He shook his head earnestly.

"Couldn't you sleep?" Draco lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's shoulder.

Harry sighed softly and turned to look out of the window again. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, nestling back into Draco's embrace.

And for the first time since their arrival earlier that night, Draco took notice of the view outside. He'd visited Paris so many times since he was a child that he had become somewhat blasé about it – but now, his arms wrapped around his boyfriend's warm body, hearing the awe in his voice, Draco saw the city through Harry's eyes. "It really is," he agreed softly.

Harry turned around completely in Draco's arms now and gently brushed the sleep-mussed hair back from his face. "You're sure your mum won't be mad at us for just disappearing like this?"

"Not at all." Draco shook his head and brushed his lips against Harry's. "This was her Christmas present."

Harry smiled sleepily. "Have I mentioned how much I love your mother?"

Draco just laughed and reached out for Harry's hands. "Come back to bed," he murmured. "You're freezing, and we have a busy day tomorrow."

"Oh, really?" Harry raised one eyebrow in interest. "Planning to tire me out, are you?"

Draco laughed again. "You're insatiable, Potter."

"And you're complaining about it?" Harry shook his head in mock-sadness. "There's no pleasing some people."

Draco slid one arm around Harry's waist. "Believe me, you managed to do that very well tonight."

Harry grinned proudly for a moment. "So what do you have planned for tomorrow, if it's not _that_?"

"Oh, we'll be doing _that_ as well, don't you worry," Draco replied. "But first we need to go shopping. You activated that Portkey before I could grab the bag I'd packed, and I refuse to spend a weekend in Paris with only a Weasley jumper to my name."


End file.
